Читать книгу Double Exposure - Lenora Worth - Страница 13

TWO

As they neared the Premier Gallery, Jennie looked down at her feet.

Right. Left. Repeat. Focus. Keep moving. Stop thinking. Don’t dwell on the trashed gallery or the message or Ethan. Definitely not Ethan.

She felt him next to her as if they were connected. His strength and confidence giving her hope that this would end soon. And if it didn’t, that he’d be there for her. He’d already put his life on the line for her, circling his arms around her, bearing the brunt of injury, but now that all the unresolved issues of their past and the painful way they’d once parted came rushing back, she wished he’d go away.

What kind of person was she to want him gone when he was willing to sacrifice his life for her?

A scared person, that’s what. Scared of this threat against her life. Scared of the way her heart beat quicker in his presence. Scared of caving in to her fear of this lunatic and failing the children.

A clue, Lord, just give me a clue what to do here. How to act. How to survive. You’ve brought me through some crazy times in the past. I need You to do the same thing now.

“Are you sure you’re up to seeing this?” Ethan clasped the gallery’s door handle.

“I have to see it sometime, right?”

“Madeline’s already told you what happened. We could come back after she’s had a chance to clean up.”

“No,” she said, surprised at the strength in her voice. “I can’t run away from this.”

He watched her for a few moments, his eyes searching until he seemed to shake off his thoughts and opened the door.

She stepped inside and came to a stop. A caustic paint odor saturated the narrow room where she’d once found comfort. Now order had turned to chaos. Shards of glass, mangled frames and torn photos littered the rough brick floor. Black-and-white. Color. It made no difference. This creep had ripped her photos of children from the wall without a care.

She could feel the vandal’s presence. Strong and threatening, like on the train. She saw him, standing here in the dim light of night, shredding the pictures and tossing them around like bits of confetti. Then moving to the wall. His arms sweeping in big, powerful strokes, anger seething from his face and vibrating through his hands as the spray can spit out his message.

OPEN THE SHOW AND YOU DIE!

She stared at it. Expected fear to rise up again, but anger boiled up instead. How dare he do this to Photos of Hope! The funds from the sale of those pictures were supposed to help children. Starving children. Sick children.

“Jennifer, there you are,” gallery owner Madeline St. James called out as she hurried toward them. She wore a deep fuchsia pantsuit that didn’t hide the fashionably thin woman’s hard angles. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry about the mess.” Madeline waved a hand in the air as if the destruction was of no consequence to her. “The police have just given me the go-ahead to clean up. I’m phoning staff members to come in this afternoon. We’ll have this place righted in no time and open the show on schedule.”

“I appreciate your hard work, Madeline,” Jennie said, but Madeline was already turning toward Ethan.

“And you, Ethan?” She pointed at his arm. “That looks like a nasty injury.”

“It’s nothing. We’re both fine.” His reassuring tone gave Jennie hope that he had everything under control.

“I trust you’re still on board with the protection details we discussed earlier.” Madeline raised a thin eyebrow.

“Yes,” Ethan answered, but he didn’t look enthusiastic about it.

“You don’t sound very convincing.”

“Like I told you before, I don’t have to personally see to Jennie’s detail. Everyone at the firm is capable of handling it.”

Madeline patted his good arm, diamond rings glinting in the spotlight. “I dearly love all of your brothers and sisters, Ethan, but none of them have the extensive background you have, now do they?”

“They may not have as many years in the law-enforcement game, but they’re pros.”

“You know me, Ethan. I hire only the best, and as I’ve told you repeatedly, you’re the best.” Her lips tipped in a slight smile. “You’re not planning on disappointing me, are you?”

“No,” he said, reluctance still in his tone.

Jennie wasn’t surprised at Madeline’s stance. Jennie had encountered similar stubbornness while planning this show with Madeline. When the woman made up her mind about something, there was no point in arguing. She always got her way.

“Fine, then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work.” She made a sharp pivot on spiked heels and headed for the back of the gallery.

Jennie saw Ethan fist his hands. He clearly didn’t want to be with her. The sooner they got to the bottom of all of this, the sooner he would be on his way.

Sucking in a reedy breath, she squatted down to pick through tattered photos, searching for anything left intact.

“I don’t know how anyone could do this,” she said to Ethan as he hovered over her like a solicitous parent. “Without the money from the fundraiser, many of the children we help could die.”

“Then we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He sounded so confident and sure. “And we’ll start by figuring out who did this.”

“This?” She gestured at the devastation surrounding her. “This makes no sense. How do we even begin to figure it out?”

“We take things one step at a time.” His voice remained calm and even.

How could he be so levelheaded when chaos surrounded them? When they were back together after all these years?

“You mentioned seeing your attacker through your camera,” he went on. “Did you take any pictures of him?”

“Several.”

“Good. We can run them through facial-recognition software to see if he’s in the database. If he is, we’ll have his ID in less than an hour.”

“I hate that people like this guy are willing to destroy things intended to do so much good.” She stood, putting distance between her and the picture scraps.

“This isn’t about destruction, Jen. It’s about stopping the show.” He paused and watched her as if waiting for his comment to settle in.

“What I don’t get is why. I mean, why trash this place and why try to take my camera?”

“I doubt this guy followed you all that way simply to steal your camera.”

“So why’d he try it, then?”

“I think he’s after a memory card and he thought it would be in the bag.”

She looked at him, eyebrow raised, and waited for an explanation.

“Look,” he said. “A crime like this one is often financially motivated, but no one stands to make money if the show doesn’t open. So we have to look at other motives.”

“Such as?”

“My first thought was someone was out for revenge, and I’m still not ruling that out. Our team is already investigating gallery and charity staff, looking for anyone who might have a grudge against Photos of Hope or the gallery itself.”

He paused and moved closer. “But now that this guy tried to steal your camera bag, we have to consider what the break-in and attempted theft have in common. Maybe we need to expand our investigation to include the pictures themselves.”

“What could my pictures have to do with this?”

“If you accidentally caught someone doing something they don’t want displayed in public, that person would try to stop you from showing the pictures. And that would mean destroying not only the pictures, but preventing you from producing more copies.”

“That could be true of someone with a personal grudge, too.”

“Agreed, and that’s why we’ll continue to look at all avenues. But if we start by reviewing the pictures, we can quickly see if my theory holds any weight, and if not, we can rule it out.”

“There’s just one problem. I only use a digital format for the newspaper. I use film for all other work.” She gestured at the jumble of frames and torn photos at her feet. “You’re looking at the only copies of these pictures. All I have are the negatives.”

“So how long will it take to reprint them?”

“I’ll be lucky to finish before the show.”

“And there’s no way to speed that up?”

“No, but I could have the negatives drum scanned to create digital copies. Scanning would only take a few hours and you could view the pictures on a computer while I work on reprints for the show.”

“Good. Good.” A burst of enthusiasm lit his eyes. “But first we’ll email the photo of your attacker to Cole. He’ll have someone at the marshal’s office run it.” She remembered reading his brother Cole had once worked as a U.S. Marshal in fugitive investigations.

“We can upload the pictures on my computer. It’s in the break area.” Ethan put his hand on her back and gently urged her to move.

Heat radiated through his fingers and a small gasp of surprise slipped out of her. Reacting to him every time he touched her was not good. So until she learned to control her response, she couldn’t be with him any more than necessary. She moved away, and his hand fell to his side.

“The negatives are at my house,” she said, searching for any reason to put distance between them. “I could save time by picking them up while you email the digital pictures.” She held out her camera but he snagged her elbow instead.

“We’ll get your negatives, Jen. Together. After we email Cole. You won’t go anywhere alone until we neutralize this threat.” He sounded so professional. So detached.

Clearly, she’d hurt him by pulling away. She wanted to apologize…but maybe it would be better this way, if they both behaved as if this was just a job to him. A job like any other job. Protect the client, find the bad guy and go home.

After the way she’d bailed on him, only a fool would believe that things could ever go back to the way they had been between them.

Then she was a fool because even in the face of overwhelming odds, she wanted to believe it.

Seeing him again, his smile, his strength, the unwavering confidence, made her want him to care. And that, more than anything, said she couldn’t spend time with him. It wouldn’t end well, for either of them.

She opened her mouth to object to his plan, but he said, “Until this is resolved, someone will be with you 24/7.”

“Someone, or you?” Her tone came out terse.

“Don’t worry, Jen. I get it. You don’t want to be with me.” She thought she heard a hint of sadness in his voice, but his face remained impassive. “You heard Madeline. She insists I head up your detail and she’s an old family friend so I won’t disappoint her.”

Of course he wouldn’t. She’d once fallen for this Ethan. An honorable man even when it caused him pain. Not that she could presume to know how he felt about being around her. It had been years since she could read his every expression. But still, it couldn’t be easy for him to work with her, could it?

She’d try to give him an out. “I respect your desire to help Madeline. Really I do. But I’m sure you could convince her to let someone else from the agency work with me instead.”

“No.” His dark eyes dared her to challenge him and his adamant tone left her speechless.

The Ethan she’d known had been more laid-back, but that was before his stint with the FBI and before his parents were murdered.

She hated to see the way pain and harsh experiences had hardened him, but she couldn’t deny that his new fierce determination was attractive—too attractive.

Her work was her priority—she couldn’t let any chance of a relationship get in the way of that. Especially not a relationship with Ethan, which would be doomed to failure if he ever learned about her past. It would be far wiser to avoid him.

But what choice did she have?

None.

If she wanted to help the children and live to tell about it, then she’d have to let Ethan back into her life no matter how difficult it would be for them both.

* * *

In the gallery’s refreshment area, Ethan slid onto a chair across the table from Jennie. She opened her camera and pulled out her memory card. He glanced back at his computer, watching it run through the start-up screens, and tried to concentrate on the job at hand.

Focus on the threat. Keep things professional.

Yeah, right. Easier said than done.

Especially when she held out the memory card and searched his face. He’d have to be blind not to see the hope these pictures brought. She believed they would lead straight to her attacker and end the case so she wouldn’t have to spend time with him.

He wasn’t as optimistic.

A good lead? Maybe. If it panned out. But finding the man’s picture in the database was a long shot.

He took the card, and when his computer chimed, signaling the end of boot up, he entered his password. He inserted the card into the slot. “You want me to sort through the pictures or do you want to do it?”

“I have a ton of pics on there, so it’ll be faster if I do it.”

He slid the computer across the table, and she went straight to work.

Her knee bounced as if she couldn’t wait to get out of here. He took the time to study her face. The sweet, soft face he’d once thought would grow old alongside his.

Not that it mattered. Not one bit. They’d never get together again.

Even if she wanted to, which she clearly didn’t, she’d left him once. She’d do the same thing again. After his ex-fiancée, Carla, had bailed on him, he’d sworn off dating. Let other men be taken in by promises women made. He was done with that. So done.

She ejected her card then pushed the computer back to him. “I saved all the pictures of him in a folder on your desktop.”

As she put the card back in her camera, he opened the first picture and sought out details he’d not caught when watching the guy.

Hard eyes. Experienced eyes. A criminal’s eyes. His attack on Jennie wasn’t his first such act. Wouldn’t be his last. Ethan clicked through the others. In an early one before he’d put up his hood, she’d caught something unusual on the back of his neck.

Ethan enlarged the picture. A tattoo with a scrolling S in bright red ended with a vivid green snake’s head, mouth open and tongue extended at the base of the guy’s neck.

“Did you see this tattoo?” Ethan asked.

She shook her head, and he swiveled the computer so she could see.

Her knee calmed, and she stared at the screen. “I’ve seen a tattoo like that before.”

“You remember where?”

“Yeah. A worker at Photos of Hope’s distribution center had one in the exact same place.”

“I didn’t know your charity was large enough to have distribution centers.”

“Just one. In Brownsville, Texas. When Photos of Hope started, we gave all the money we raised to other charities, and that still works well in the United States. But with all the corruption in Mexico, if we want to be sure the right people receive help, we have to purchase and distribute the items ourselves. So a few years ago, we obtained the necessary permits to distribute food, household items and medical supplies. We still have problems with corruption and supplies not getting where they’re intended, but it’s on a much smaller scale.”

“So this guy works in Brownsville, then.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure his tattoo matches the one in this picture?” Ethan pointed at the screen.

“Positive. I even talked to the warehouse manager about it. This isn’t the kind of image I want to portray for the charity.”

Ethan was starting to get excited. “Firing him could be motive enough for revenge.”

“We didn’t fire him. The manager said he was one of her best workers. Since he’s not in the public eye, she didn’t think he’d have an impact on our image. I trust her judgment, so as far as I know, he still works there.”

“While I finish up here, I’d like you to find out everything you can about him from the manager.”

“You think this worker has something to do with the break-in?”

“It isn’t a common tattoo, and I doubt it’s a coincidence that he has the same one as your attacker.” He didn’t add that he also felt confident the tattoo marked him as a gang member. No need to share that thought until they proved this was gang related.

Jennie took out her phone, and he set to work on his emails. He heard her chatting with the manager but he focused on his task. He not only emailed Cole, but copied the message to his sister Kat, as well. As a former Portland police officer, she had contacts in the department who could tell them if this particular tattoo linked Jennie’s assailant to a gang. He attached the pictures and hit Send, watching as the message disappeared from his screen.

“His name is Javier Caldera,” Jennie said, clapping her phone closed. “He still works at the warehouse. My manager says he’s an exemplary employee, and she highly doubts he could have anything to do with this.”

“We still need to investigate him, Jen. People do things you’d never expect.” He flinched as he realized, too late, his statement’s double meaning.

If she caught his reference to the way she’d bailed on him, he couldn’t see it in the clear brown eyes peering back at him. “I asked her to email all of his details to me.”

“Good.” He wanted to pursue their past, but he’d have plenty of time to broach the subject later. He shut down the computer and put it in the case.

“Can we go now?” Jennie rose and headed for the door. “I really need to get started on those reprints.”

He caught up to her. “Any chance I can convince you to lie low?”

She turned and looked at him. “What exactly do you mean by ‘lie low’?”

“Once we get to your house, you stay there until we can do a complete threat assessment?”

“Sorry, I can’t do that,” she said, sounding earnestly apologetic. “I’ll barely finish printing pictures on time as it is.”

Her answer didn’t surprise him. The agency provided security details for a number of people and most of them couldn’t just hide out. They had lives to live. Of course, most of them didn’t have such an overt threat directed at them. Still, he didn’t need to make drastic changes in her schedule. At least, not yet.

“Let me be clear about one thing before we leave, Jen.” He stepped in front of her, blocking her exit onto the street. “I’m okay with picking up your negatives and going to the darkroom today, but things will have to change when word gets out that the show is still on.”

“And then what?”

“Then whoever trashed this place will try to stop you by whatever means necessary,” he answered bluntly. “So we’ll need to further restrict your activities.”

At his grim tone, some of the color drained from her face, and he saw her clench then release her hands. He hated to be the one renewing her fear, but he couldn’t downplay the situation or she might not listen to him when needed.

He escorted her out of the gallery, and once safely in his truck, he focused on making sure no one tailed them. They rode for thirty minutes, the air filled with tension and unease. No matter what he said, it wouldn’t change the atmosphere, so he kept quiet and left Jennie alone to peer out the window.

Nearing Beaverton, his phone chimed from the holder on his dash, and she jumped.

“Relax,” he said and checked caller ID.

Cole. Good.

Ethan didn’t want to share this conversation with Jennie until he knew what Cole had to say, but Oregon’s hands-free driving law prohibited any other option, so he clicked his speaker button.

“I’m in the truck with Jennie, and I’m putting you on speaker.” He hoped the warning would encourage Cole to filter his words.

“Got an ID on your guy,” Cole said. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

Ethan glanced at Jennie. Saw her eyes narrow.

He didn’t want to ask but he had to. “Who is he?”

“His name is Juan Munoz. Lives here in Portland. He’s a known member of the Sotos gang.”

“What’s that?” Jennie asked.

“A local gang affiliated with Eduardo Sotos’s drug cartel in Mexico,” Cole explained. “They’re based out of Matamoros and specialize in exporting cocaine to the U.S.”

Jennie gasped.

“This guy is dangerous, bro,” Cole went on. “Besides priors for drug trafficking, he’s a person of interest in several gang slayings.”

A murderer?

Ethan’s heart slammed against his chest. He couldn’t look at Jennie. She must be terrified. Still, he wouldn’t lie and tell her discovering Munoz’s history was no big deal.

It was a big deal.

Her attacker was wanted in gangland slayings and the important thing to focus on right now was finding out what a vicious killer like Munoz wanted with Jennie.